LPT: If you’re tall, when speaking to a short person, kneel down or else you’re being ableist
Being short is a disability, and as a tall person, it's your responsibility to make sure short people don't get even more disabled by having to look up to speak to you. Doing this can damage their neck. Standing up while talking to short people also makes them feel threatened and unsafe so kneeling down not only prevents them from damaging their necks but also makes them feel more safe. Not doing this means you don't respect short people, you're mocking their disability, you're looking down on them and that's ableist, so be the bigger man and kneel.
Thank you.
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I just fired out why they call them Brokers
I just figured out why they call them ‘Brokers’
WallStreetBets
Hello I'm 13 year old from asia, name Lee Cheng Yun
twitchquotes:
ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ɪᴍ 13 ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴏʟᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀsɪᴀ, ɴᴀᴍᴇ ʟᴇᴇ ᴄʜᴇɴɢ ʏᴜɴ. ɪ ɴᴏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜʏ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟғ? ᴡʜʏ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ sᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ ғᴀᴄᴇs ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴛ? ɪ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴅs ɪɴ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛʜsᴛᴏɴᴇ, ɪ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ ғɪɴᴅ ᴍɪʟʜᴏᴜsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜsᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴢᴏᴏ ᴅᴇᴄᴋ.
twitch chat
Kripp
Did you hear about the Italian chef who died?
twitchquotes:
Did you hear about the Italian chef who died? He pasta way. He just ran out of thyme. Here today, gone tomato. His wife is still upset, cheese still not over it. We never sausage a tragedy coming. Ashes to ashes, crust to crust. There’s just not mushroom for Italian chefs in today’s world. Want to know what the rough parts of Italy are called? The spaghetto. Don’t call yourself Italian if you weren’t baptized in marinara sauce. You are literally too stupid to insult.
twitch chat
Hopefully the FBI can find Jack Ma
FBI set up a tip line for people to send in videos and pictures of the people who stormed the capitol yesterday... I’ve been sending them pictures of Jack Ma. Hopefully they can find him.
WallStreetBets
I finally did it. I out pizza'd the Hut
I finally did it. I out pizza'd the Hut. It was the greatest mistake of my life.
After years of perfecting my recipe, I made my way down to the local hut, fresh-baked pizza pie in hand. "Try this," I told the kid working the counter. He did, and he had to agree that it was better than anything Pizza Hut had to offer. Soon, the entire store, customers included, was feasting on my delicious pie. The manager walked over, grabbed a slice, and took a bite. I look at him, anticipation rising. This was the boss, the local fief lord of the Hut. His approval meant more to me than all the rest combined. He took a bite and nodded. "I'll be damned," he said, "you really did it. You out- pizza'd the Hut. Shame." Shame? What did he mean by tha-- the manager pulled a gun out from behind his apron and shot the nearest customer in the head. "We have a Code Jalapeño," he said into his wrist as he executed the remaining customers. "I repeat, we have a Code Jalapeño." The ground was slick with blood. The kid working the counter choked out his dying breath as the manager turned to me. "You just had to do it motherfucker. You just had to out pizza the Hut." He shoved the gun in my face. I was too scared to fight, too scared to run. The manager pulled the trigger.
A click. The gun was empty. I threw a chair at the manager and scrambled out of the Pizza Hut, not even bothering to see if my missile hit its mark. I was closely pursued by the manager, who had gotten his hands on a deadly sharp pizza cutter. I suspected in his hands it would cut more than pizza. Somehow, I was able to get into my car and speed off, the manager cursing my existence as I left him behind. I took a deep breath. The manager was clearly psychotic. Yes, that was it, just a crazy man with a gun. It had to be. My phone rang. Sister. I picked it. "They're dead, she sobbed. They're all dead. Mom, Dad, Chris, Bill. Dead. They killed them all." I could barely understand her, so great were her sobs. "What do you mean? Where are you?" I asked urgently. "How is this possi--" A single gunshot sounded through my phone's speakers. Silence. Then, I heard a man's voice. "No one out pizzas the Hut." He hung up. I drove down the empty country road, mind blank. I had nothing. They killed my family. I was alone.
At that moment I knew what I had to do. They took everything from me. Well then, I would take everything from them. Pizza Hut was so terrified of being out pizza'd, they forgot there's one thing worse than a man with a recipe: A man with nothing to lose. I'll give them a limited time offer they won't be able to refuse: two bullets for the price of one.
With a free side order of pain.